“Platonic” Bed-sharing: A Snowbaz Fic
In which there is much Snowbaz fluff.
Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Rainbow Rowell!
Simon Snow is a complete nitwit. Baz thought.
The two boys were at a standoff. Baz always knew that Simon was plagued with nightmares. Some nights the sound of the curly-haired angel of a boy would keep him up until faint streaks of sunlight drifted through their bedroom door. He had never gone off in his sleep though. This was certainly new.
“Please Baz! My spine is too fucking boney to sleep on the ground. Do you want me to be miserable all night?” He was pleading now, his blue eyes wide, accentuating his freckles.
He was standing there in their chamber looking like an innocent child in a too-tall body. He was hugging a spare blankets and a pillow to his chest. His lanky, skinny limbs looked even skinnier in his baggy Watford pajamas. All his scone eating hadn’t done anything to increase his weight. Must be the pressure of seventh year getting to him.
“As a matter of fact, yes I do want that.” Yes, get bruises all over your perfect back you idiot. That’s what you get for being so attractive.
“If you don’t share your bed I’ll make sure you’re miserable all night too!”
It was a measly threat to Baz. He was already miserable enough every night to have the Mage’s Heir tormenting him through his presence every day and night. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out a single wrinkle in his bedsheets.
“Don’t ignore me! It’s just for one night. I won’t even touch you, I promise.”
Baz fluffed up his pillow. He could physically feel Simon’s glares.
“Come on man! S’not my fault Watford doesn’t have any spare beds lying around!” There was an intoxicating electric tingle to the air. Simon was getting too worked up about this. “If I have to sleep on the ground because of you I will go off on your bed and we’ll both be cold and sore from sleeping on the fucking stone floor.”
That was certainly a threat Simon could get away with doing, despite the anathema. Damn him. Baz thought.
“Okay. Fucking fine!” It came out more harshly than Baz intended.
Simon took a step back, the threads of his magic retreating immediately. It was certainly frightening how closely tied Simon’s magic was to his emotions.
“Thanks. I promise. This is just for tonight. I’ll build a spare bed myself if it means I don’t have to sleep with you.”
Baz snorted. Simon. Building something. Now that would be something. He sighed in annoyance as he realized sharing a bed with Simon would make it extremely difficult to sneak of to drink tonight.
“I’m going to change into my nightclothes. Make yourself at home, Snow.” He said sarcasm dripping from his voice like water from a leaky faucet.
Simon nodded. He looked exhausted.
Baz went to change his clothes in the bathroom. He stared at his own grey eyes in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and if he had more blood in him, he would probably would look flushed. He felt a surge of nervousness and anticipation.
Sharing a bed with Simon Snow. Simon fucking Snow. How on bloody earth am I supposed to not kiss the moles on his neck if he is bloody next to me?
This would certainly be a long night.
Emerging from the bathroom, Baz saw Simon fixing up a sheet to work as a divider in the middle of their already small twin bed.
“What the fuck are you doing Snow?” Baz asked incredulously.
“I thought it’d be more comfortable if there was a like… physical barrier between us.”
“Whatever floats your boat you nitwit.”
Baz carefully folded his Watford sweater, placing it in a drawer, and hung up his trousers. Then he stood by his bed, eyeing a reclining Simon.
“I promise I won’t bite or go off on you tonight Baz. And don’t even think about doing anything to me. Anathema, remember.”
Baz rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. He laid on his side, facing away from the boy he wanted to kiss ever since they met. Simon had already turned out the light. It was just the two of them now. Lying side by side. Lit by moonlight.
This would be incredibly romantic if were an entirely different pair of boys. And both gay. Baz thought.
He heard Simon sigh. He could feel heat radiating of him in waves. He was so hot. Baz didn’t understand why Simon even bothered to use a blanket. He was already a walking furnace. In more ways than one. Baz swallowed, bit his tongue and did his best to repress the urge to turn and kiss the living hell out of Simon.
Moments passed in silence. Simon’s breath faded into a rhythm. But it wasn’t how he sounded when he was sleeping. More like he was relaxed.
Baz was not relaxed. It felt like every atom of his undead existence was on edge. He was going to have to spend at least eight hours lying like this with the boy he loved and wanted most lying next to him. This was all a terrible mistake.
A gentle touch and a whispered “Baz!” made his entire body flinch. The hand immediately retreated and Baz immediately wished it back.
“Blimey Snow! What the fuck do you want?” He turned to look at the boy.
It was a mistake.
Simon looked ethereal. His eyes were soft and tired. His bronze hair was silver and shone under the starlight. His lips. Crowley his lips looked devourable.
Baz swore he felt his vampire heart have a seizure in his chest. He was tingling all over. This was a mistake. He should just go stalk the Watford grounds and sleep under a tree or some shit. Even a cold Autumn night spent outside would be better than this infernal torture.
“Baz. Why are we like this?”
“Like what, idiot?” Baz spat a bit.
The bead of saliva landed on Snow’s pillow. Baz wished it had landed on Simon’s face. Then he wished he hadn’t thought that.
“Why do we hate each other?”
Baz sighed in exasperation. But some force he wasn’t entirely in control of made him turn completely onto his side and face Snow full-on.
“I don’t know! Maybe my parents hate your adopted father because he stole all that was good from our family?” Baz’s words raised in volume.
He was getting annoyed.
Annoyed that Simon looked so calm. Annoyed that they could kiss right that moment Annoyed they weren’t kissing. Annoyed that it was even a possibility in his mind. He wanted to glare at Simon. But he was so tired. And thirsty.
This was a mistake.
Simon was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the wall behind Baz. Then he was studying Baz’s face and time seemed to stop.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot, Baz. None of this stupid rivalry makes any sense!”
“Welcome to the real world.”
“Sure. But right now. I’m scared.” Simon’s voice was getting soft and small.
He was so small and pale and delicate in that moment. Baz felt an insuppressible need to protect him. It made his heart feel like it could burst out of his chest and fly away.
“Scared?” Baz found his voice was getting softer now too.
Why. Why? He needed more control than this. Everything that was expect from him wasn’t what he really wanted. He had to stop his feelings. But he couldn’t. He had made a terrible mistake.
“I’m scared of the Humdrum. Of losing the people I care about. Penny. The Mage. Agatha. You.”
Baz coughed in suprise. Not a sarcastic cough. A genuine “what-the-fuckity-fuck” cough.
“I’m scared of sleeping tonight because I don’t want to wake up and find that I’ve destroyed everything I love.” Simon looked almost like he was going to cry.
“Are you afraid you’ll go off again tonight?” Baz asked.
Simon nodded ashamedly. Baz didn’t really feel concerned that Simon could hurt him. He felt concerned that Simon was sad. They laid there in silence, staring at each other.
Then, then, Simon took the sheet that was separating them, cast it aside, and flung his arms around Baz. Baz was too shocked to react for a moment. He couldn’t exactly fathom how this moment was real. Slowly, he wrapped an arm back around him.
“S-simon?” He managed.
“Sorry.” He muttered into Baz’s shirt. “I think I just needed a hug.”
“You want a hug from your mortal enemy in a bed?”
Baz could feel Simon sigh in response. Then he drew back but not that far back.
“I don’t know.”
They stared at each other. Baz knew his eyes probably looked as wide as Simon’s did. What did this all mean? What was Simon trying to accomplish through this? Did he know how Baz felt and was trying to manipulate him?
Manipulation or not, whatever Simon was doing was working.
Simon’s hand encircled his and he froze.
Physically and mentally, he froze.
Baz had so many questions. So many demands to make.
Why did Simon care about him?
Why on earth did Simon think hugging the boy who had only made him miserable would accomplish anything?
Why were they holding hands in a bed?
What the fuck was happening?
Why were they not kissing?
They should kiss.
He wanted Simon to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Simon.
“Simon?” He whispered.
“Kiss me.” Simon whispered back.
And he did.